The Pirates
Authors: Campion Quinn
Journal: Annals of Internal Medicine (1999)

On Being a Patient21 September 1999The PiratesFREECampion Quinn, MDCampion Quinn, MDRockville Centre, NY 11570 (Quinn)Search for more papers by this authorAuthor, Article, and Disclosure Informationhttps://doi.org/10.7326/0003-4819-131-6-199909210-00015 SectionsAboutVisual AbstractPDF ToolsAdd to favoritesDownload CitationsTrack CitationsPermissions ShareFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail The two boys jumped from bed to bed, as the ceiling fan creaked and spun lazily through the humid September air. At the height of their leaps, the blades narrowly missed their heads. Liam cried to Martin, “Jump any higher and the fan will cut your head off.”“I'm not scared.”“Me neither, nothing can hurt me,” said Liam.Martin, the taller of the two boys, drew from his belt the ruler that was his cutlass this hot afternoon. He lunged after Liam, thrusting and slashing, chasing him across the stained brown carpet and down the stairs. As he ran through the kitchen, Liam grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter top. This martial parity brought a renewed ardor for the fight. Liam spun and faced his adversary, a duel to the death. Parrying and thrusting, he slashed across Martin's wrist and the ruler fell. With his enemy disarmed, Liam pushed the spoon handle into Martin's abdomen. Falling to his knees, Martin cried, “Arggh, ya got me, Captain Kidd, all the treasure is yours.”“What about the parrot?” Liam asked.“You can have the parrot too!”“I guess I'll need a map to find your treasure,” suggested Liam.In search of a treasure map, they headed, at a dead run, for the kitchen table. The battle and the fatal wound forgotten, the buccaneers ripped pages from a school notebook and began to draw maps. Their heads bent in concentration, they created several copies of a treasure map. Each succeeding version contained a different combination of palm trees, Jolly Rogers, dotted lines, and treasure chests. Each chest burst with gems, doubloons, and strands of pearls.They drew maps, pirates, and galleons for more than an hour, intermittently making sorties to the refrigerator for milk, cookies, and apples. The boys ate noisily and laughed as apple juice dripped from their mouths and chins.Out in the back yard, they searched for their buried treasure in the pine grove. The needles were dry, and the ground was soft. They began to run, then roll, on the cushion of needles. They tossed pine cone hand grenades at one another from behind the trees, supplying the sounds of the explosions and cries of the wounded. They rolled down an embankment and onto the bottom of a dry riverbed. As they lay on their backs, gasping from exertion, they stared at the deep blue sky, framed by the swaying tops of the pine trees. They lay and talked for a long while, hearing only their own soft voices and the buzzing of the last of the cicadas in the September heat.Despite being cousins of similar age, Martin and Liam looked nothing alike. Martin was tall, with a wide dark face and straight snowy teeth. His hair was dark, shiny, and uneven on one side where his mother had slipped with the clippers. Liam was thin and fair, with sharp features and golden hair. His front teeth had been missing since the beginning of the summer. This bothered him not a bit. In fact, Liam enjoyed the novelty, and often entertained his friends at school cafeteria by squirting milk through the spaces between his teeth.“We should be getting back.” Martin said. “My Mom'll be home soon, and I've got to finish that math homework.”“Yeah, I guess,” said Liam glumly.Ambling back to the house, they tossed more pine cones, and a branch became a machine gun, which chattered away in the shady pine grove.In the house, Martin ran upstairs to look for his schoolbooks amidst the bedroom clutter. Liam put away milk containers and swept cookie crumbs off the table with his hand. As he cleaned, he heard his named being called from upstairs. He entered the bedroom, where earlier boarding parties from his cousin's ship had crossed to his. Now he watched his cousin sitting on the edge of his bed, aiming a handgun out the window. The gun was large in Martin's tiny hands, all heavy lines and sharp angles. Its weight, color, and geometry all fascinated him. The gun was cool to Martin's touch, and the oily surface made it difficult for him to grip the gun firmly. The two boys stared, mesmerized.“Wow, where'd you get that?” Liam finally said.“From my Dad's closet,” Martin confided.“Why's he have it?”“Burglars!” Martin said.Liam was incredulous. “Burglars! You've got burglars?” His tone implied that burglars might be an infestation, like rodents or cockroaches. Liam's eyes quickly scanned the room, as if a burglar might jump out at them from the closet, or from under a bed.“Nah. Well, I've never seen them, anyway,” Martin confessed.“Then why does he have it?” Liam persisted.“I guess my Dad thinks it's cool,” Martin said.Eyeing the gun enviously, Liam asked, “Can I see it?”“Sure, but be careful.”As the gun was passed between their tiny hands, a loud report shattered the silence of the afternoon. Martin, frightened by the noise, dropped the gun. He quickly looked out the window. In his mind's eye, he could see his mother, frantic, racing for the front door. He could easily imagine the beating he would get. He was relieved when he saw no immediate danger, and quickly bent to pick up the gun, intending to wrap it in the oily rag he'd found it in and to put it back on the floor of his father's closet.It was then that he saw his cousin, lying still on the floor. Below his chin was a small black hole. Blood ran from it and mixed with the golden hair and ended in another dark stain on the carpet. Liam stared blankly at the ceiling fan as it slowly cut the humid September air. Comments0 CommentsSign In to Submit A Comment Author, Article, and Disclosure InformationAffiliations: Rockville Centre, NY 11570 (Quinn)Corresponding Author: Campion Quinn, MD, 49 Thomas Road, Rockville Centre, NY 11570. PreviousarticleNextarticle Advertisement FiguresReferencesRelatedDetails Metrics Cited ByThe Health Care Professional's Pledge: Protecting Our Patients From Firearm InjuryChristine Laine, MD, MPH and Darren B. Taichman, MD, PhDLife on the Receiving End: A Qualitative Analysis of Health Providers??? Illness Narratives 21 September 1999Volume 131, Issue 6Page: 472-473KeywordsAttentionBloodDeceptionHand strengthHearingKneesMilkMouthThoraxTouch Issue Published: 21 September 1999 CopyrightCopyright © 1999 by American College of Physicians. All Rights Reserved.PDF DownloadLoading ...